


keep it.

by myckymaple



Category: Metalocalypse (Cartoon)
Genre: Breakup, M/M
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2019-06-13
Updated: 2019-06-13
Packaged: 2020-05-02 09:49:20
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 736
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/19196443
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/myckymaple/pseuds/myckymaple
Summary: Pickles wishes William would just acknowledge that there's a problem.William doesn't get what the big deal is until he's given an ultimatum.





	keep it.

William Murderface wasn’t a sentimental guy. He was a self-proclaimed ice cold stud and emotions were as brutal as a box of baby kittens in little kitty pajamas as far as he was concerned. 

But that didn’t change the fact that he was currently drowning in an extreme tidal wave of feelings right now. Because right now, his current (read: only) bed partner for the past 6 months is threatening to end whatever it was going on between them. 

Even under threat of death, William doesn’t think he’d even be able to articulate exactly what it was they even were to each other. But he knew for a fact that he didn’t want whatever it was to end. “You’re fucking drunk Picklesch.” 

Pickles chuckled. 

“Yeh, when am I not? Jest another reason thet yer so ashamed of me, right dude?” He said with a bitter smile, as he stumbled around Murderface’s room clumsily picking up every odd piece of clothing and paraphernalia he vaguely recognized as his. 

William seethed with anger and confusion and honest to God desperation. He stormed up to the redhead, abruptly grabbing him by the shoulders and bringing their faces close together, painfully reminiscent of past interactions in similar positions, though those were under much more lighthearted conditions. 

“Picklesch, you know you don’t gotta go? What’sch the big deal anyway? Who caresch if the guysch don’t know about… about… thisch…” He stumbled towards the end, flustered.

Pickles laughed in his face. “And what exactly is this, eh William?” He asked, shrugging out of William’s hold. “Y’know I get it… I grew up in the feckin’ bible belt man, believe me I get it… But it’s also been 6 goddamn months since we started sleepin’ together and ya still can barely look me in tha eye when we’re around the rest of tha band! Ya barely talk to me outside of this room dude!”

Murderface visibly recoiled, well-aware of his recent actions.

“You know I’m trying to keep a low-profile…” He answered weakly. 

Pickles scoffed. “Don’t worry they don’t actually know anything.” He said as he continued rummaging for his things around the room. 

William felt his heart physically aching. He knew, theoretically, exactly what words he should say, exactly what things he should do. But he also simultaneously felt like those things were physically impossible for him to even attempt. But maybe for Pickles…

Pickles sighed, seeing William’s devastated, conflicted expression. “Look William, I like you. Like, a lot. The band won’t give a shit, look at Toki and Skwisgaar dude. If anything our fans fuckin’ love them together,” he chuckled, then gave William a bittersweet smile. “And we’re not getting any younger.”

Murderface was at an impasse, wanting to say something, fucking anything to get Pickles to stop. To stay. To be with him. Maybe forever. And he knew the words, he’d thought them in his head since the moment they met all those years ago at a band audition and the redhead made some stupid, severely depressed bass player feel like he was worth something for the first time in his fucking sad existence. 

He knew what to fucking say and he always had. And, like always, he couldn’t bring himself to spit it out. 

Instead, what came out of his mouth, mumbled and miserable, was, “Uh… You forgot thisch…” 

He held out the Snakes ’n Barrels collector’s pick, the one he’s kept on his person constantly for 6 months. It was a small gift, wasn’t originally meant to mean anything, but for William it meant everything and he wanted to kill himself for bringing attention to it the moment the words left his mouth.

Pickled smiled weakly, walking over to William and moving to seemingly grab the pick, but instead using his hand to give William’s face a gentle pat. 

“Keep it. If ya ever figure yer shit out, I’ll be around.” He finished with a sad grin, and then made his final exit. 

As his door clicked shut, Murderface felt the full impact of what just happened fall on him. He was regretful, dejected, and every goddamn miserable word in the dictionary. He fell on his bed, softly stroking the spot on his cheek that Pickles touched. His tiny, shriveled up old heart was burning with something he couldn’t completely understand, but that he felt deep in his soul. 

He was gonna figure it out. He had to.

**Author's Note:**

> This was a prompt I was given on tumblr !!
> 
> I really didn't mean for it to be sad, but I think Pickleface is just an angst-magnet ;o; 
> 
> Regardless, this is a really dynamic rare-pair that deserves some love !!


End file.
